Page 216 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"You are insufferable."

"That's why you love me!"

The pause lasts half a second too long.

Plague yanks a fresh pair of gloves from his pocket and snaps them on so aggressively the latex pops like a gunshot. "Let's finish the fucking door."

"Yes, sir."

I hear the soft footsteps on the stairs before they do. My hands curl at my sides before I register the gait and force myself to relax.

Valek rounds the corner, his choppy white hair pushed back from his face. His flat silver eyes take in the scene.

"What the fuck happened?" Valek asks.

"We're fixing the door," Whiskey says, jerking his thumb at the hatch. "Unsealing it. So Ivy can use the stairs like a normal person instead of climbing the fire escape."

Valek's eyes move from Whiskey to me. Then up to the hatch. "The door you sealed to hide her from me," he says, still looking up.

"Yeah." Whiskey shrugs one massive shoulder. "That one."

Valek arches an eyebrow. "Does she know about this?"

"'Course she knows. I texted her to ask." Whiskey fumbles his phone out with his good hand, unlocks it, and holds the screen toward Valek.

I crane my neck to look over Whiskey's shoulder.

WHISKEY

Dearest Ivy, our mate, our omega, our beloved, the Pack (hereafter referred to as "The Ghosts Pack") formally requests your approval to unseal and restore the ceiling hatch/door (hereafter referred to as "The Canadian Door") on the second floor hallway to full operational status, thereby granting access to the third floor loft (hereafter referred to as "Wraith's Lair") via interior staircase rather than exterior fire escape. This modification is proposed in light of the changed residential status of Valek Carter (hereafter referred to as "Valek" and not "The Guy We Sealed It Because Of") Please confirm your consent at your earliest convenience. Respectfully, Whiskey (on behalf of The Ghosts Pack)

IVY

Did you download a template for this???

Of course you can fix the door!!

He's pack now

Something shifts behind Valek's usually empty expression as he reads the screen.

"Pack," he repeats.

"Pack," Whiskey confirms with a huge grin, pocketing his phone.

Valek's jaw works, but he hides it by turning away. "Right," he mutters.

We finish unsealing the door. It looks like a fucking mess, but when I push on it to test it, it works.

The front door opens downstairs.

All three alphas bolt.

Whiskey doesn't even bother with the stairs. He vaults over the railing halfway down the hall and hits the landing below so hard the house shakes, his injured fingers apparently forgotten entirely. Plague follows at a slightly more dignified pace, which means he only takes the steps two at a time instead of three. Valek peels away from the wall and drifts down the stairwell last, silent as always.

I stay at the top.

Not because I don't want to see her.